~Camila~
"𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒏'𝒕 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝑪𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒂, 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒓 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕"
To the world, Camila is a breath of fresh air; a woman of gentle smiles and a joyful heart. Her charm is her armor, and her intellect is her weapon.
B...
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It's been a week since I started working with Ms. Aurora, and to be honest, I regret agreeing to take on the role as a representative at Mr. Dae-Seong's request.
Every day felt like a torturous exercise in patience and diplomacy—a constant battle against her arrogant attitude.
I complained to Mr. Dae-Seong, but all he says is, "Be strong. That's just how she is," as if that were a sufficient excuse for her endless demands and dismissive behavior.
I tried to understand, to find some redeeming quality in her actions, but it's like trying to find light in a black hole.
The frustration builds, making it increasingly difficult to bite my tongue and swallow my anger. But I have to do this for Mr. Dae-Seong, for his sake, if not my own.
My gaze drifts to the 110th file stacked on my desk—a mountain of paperwork I've been battling with all day.
I was exhausted, my body aching from the relentless work.
The best job I ever had was being Luciano's model. I received lavish perks—free spa treatments, new expensive lingerie, makeup, luxurious outfits, and cosmetics.
All I had to do was pose in front of the camera. But as I reminisce about those days, my mind started to wander, and I could not help but sigh.
I try to push away the memories, to keep my heart from breaking all over again, but it's no use. They're embedded in my mind, etched into my soul.
Every thought, every action, every fleeting moment—a painful reminder of what we once shared.
A knock at the door interrupts my reverie. It was Letizia, her head peeking through the doorframe.
On the second day I arrived, I was surprised to find her working as an employee at the company. But it brought me joy, as I finally had a companion with whom I could converse freely and feel at ease.
"Aren't you going home?" She asked, stepping inside.
"It's almost eleven," she points out.
"I'll leave soon," I sighed, glancing at the clock. "I just need to finish this last file. But you can go ahead without me."
"No, I'll wait," she insisted, settling onto the sofa in the corner.
"No, Letizia, you don't have to. I'll just finish up and go home." I tried to persuade her, but she shook her head stubbornly.
I was too drained to argue, so I let her have her way. I finished my work quickly, eager to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the office.
In no time, I finished. We left together, and thankfully, Letizia had a car. In that moment, I was grateful she waited for me—otherwise, I would've ended up sleeping on the uncomfortable sofa at the office.
